The Other Side of the Story
by Galahan
Summary: Silmarillion story. The tale of the Fall of Glorfindel. This time, however, it's told from the Balrog's point of view. Much lighter than Dulinraug, but could still count as a companion piece to that. Please R&R!


Disclaimer: Don't own the Balrog, any pesky Elves, or Morgoth. Don't own anything. 

Archive: You want, you can have. Provided you tell me where it's going.

A/N: Does anybody ever read these things anyway? I just up and decided that the Balrog's story of his battle with Glorfindel needed to be told. He wasn't really _that _bad, just... misguided. Blame it on Young Padfoot. It was her insisting that Voldemorte was really just an abused child who took his problems out on the rest of the world that put this idea into my head. Reviews are very much appreciated.

The Other Side of the Story

It wasn't my fault. I had absolutely nothing to do with it. Well, maybe that's not _quite_ true... but why do I have to be the bad guy? It was all that dratted Elf's fault. 'What?' you say. 'What do you speak of?' So perhaps it is time the rest of the world heard my side of the story...

It all began with Morgoth. He stole these jewels that, personally, were way too bright. How is one supposed to have a suitably dark cave when your treasure glows in the dark? But the Elves apparently liked them a lot. So they got mad at us. Not just at Morgoth, but at all of us. It's not like he told us what he was planning. But those irritating little Elves came to our homes and waged war upon us. Jeez, all it was was a couple of ugly rocks... but that's beside the point. 

So, we fight them off a few times, break their siege (meanies, they wouldn't even let the fried fish delivery Orc into my cave), push their armies away from our palace, Angband... at least, I think that's what they call it. Maybe I've lived in the deep places of the earth for a little too long...

But now, this really stupid elf told us where the secret stronghold of the High King of the Elves was located. So, of course, we attack. If we can get rid of the High King, maybe they'll just give up and go back where they came from. Who cares where, just as long as they leave us alone.

So Morgoth sends in hordes of idiot Orcs to do the dirty work. He also sent a bunch of dragons to burn the place to the ground so those irritatingly persistent Elves won't be able to use it again. I think he sent a bunch of Balrogs (like me!) with them to organize the whole escapade. I mean, Orcs are just plain stupid. Dragons aren't really any better. They get distracted by anything shiny.

Anyway, Morgoth decides that these Elves are smarter than they look. So he sends me into the Encircling Mountains that encircle the city (funny thing, huh?) to make sure those mindless Orcs don't mess up and let the Elves escape. Those mountains were just WAY too cold. Even though I was on fire, it was freezing up there. And the hike to get there...ugh, not pleasant in the least. Why did Morgoth have to pick me? It almost made me wish I were a dragon so I could just fly up and be done with it.

At least I got a nice, large group of Orcs to take with me. It was almost three-quarters of the size of the army that had attacked the city. 'Tis a pity that half of the mindless brutes died on the way up, either from falling off, killing each other, or some other mysterious cause. Oh well. They were only Orcs. 

It was late in the day when we saw a little group of Elves approaching. I managed to get the Orcs into a fairly decent position for an ambush in a nearly impassable pass. It was rather scary. I mean, who ever heard of an Orc that could comprehend a word more than five letters long? That's almost as scary as Morgoth when he's mad. 

It took forever for those Elves to finally get here. When they did, I ordered they Orcs to attack, but try not to hurt the littlest ones. Morgoth was always happy when we saved children. He said that they had no part in the crimes of their elders. He raises them himself, though what happens after that, I don't know. Maybe they get nice, warm caves somewhere.

Being typical Orcs, though, they just hacked away at anything that happened to be in their way, including themselves. Maybe their language skills aren't as good as I'd first thought. I leapt out of my nice, almost warm hiding place and went to fix the mess. I headed toward where a bunch of Orcs were harrying a lady and her kid. I was about to pick the kid up to take to Morgoth when some idiot Elf standing on a big rock started shooting arrows at me. At first I just ignored it, but then he started shouting insults. My Elvish isn't very good, but I think he called me a dragon. I'm not a dragon! I'm a Balrog! Get it? BALROG!

He shouted more insults. That was it. Forget the kid. Morgoth would just have to deal. It was worth the extra climb to roast this one. Well, not roast him, just set that pretty, blonde hair of his on fire.

The climb was tougher than it looked. I grumbled and cursed my way up. The Elf jumped backwards just as I reached him. I know my swearing wasn't pleasant, but it's a far bit better than what comes out of the mouths of Orcs.

Since I was by now thoroughly irked, I lashed my whips at him. The fool tried to stop them with a shield. The first blow melted it to nothing more than a twisted heap of metal. So he used his sword to stop my blows. He was pretty darn fast, for an Elf.

I slipped a little on one of those accursed little rocks that littered these mountains. It was then that I saw the eagles off in the distance. Just about every swear word I knew went through my head. If I didn't finish this battle soon and clean up the mess of Elves the Orcs had forgotten to dispose of in their pathetic attempt to wage war, we would probably lose. Morgoth would kill me. It would be much, much worse than intelligent Orcs.

I slipped again as I turned back toward the Elf. This time I didn't recover my balance soon enough. Before I knew it, that dratted Elf had knocked into me, throwing us both off the cliff. That idiot! Didn't he realize how big a problem his was? The Orcs would hack everything to pieces now. Orcs didn't distinguish between women and children and warriors!

I lashed out with my whips, trying to find something to catch myself on. Instead, I hit the Elf. Whoops. I guess he's definitely on fire now. At the moment, I couldn't manage to feel remorseful.

Just before I hit the bottom, I saw the eagles fly in. Drat! Now Morgoth would definitely have it in for me. Even if I would be dead in another moment. He'd find a way. Then I crashed into the ground and everything went all black.

So now you see... It wasn't my fault. But would you mind, uh, not mentioning this little adventure to Morgoth? I have a feeling that he won't be very happy about this...

~~~

A/N: Any inconsistencies between this story and Dulinraug must be due to the Balrog exaggerating. After all, I wouldn't make mistakes! Lol, sorry, had to slip that in there. If you liked this story, or even if you didn't, click the little box in the corner and review! And check out my other fic about this battle, Dulinraug. It's told from Glorfindel's POV.


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